Love Finds You in Branson, Missouri

by Gwen Ford Faulkenberry

  “Hi. This is Ellie Heinrichs.”

  “Who?”

  “Um, Ellie Heinrichs.”

  “I don’t know any Ellie Heinrichs.”

  “Oh. Well, sir, I got your number from Jackson Jenkins. He told me to call you about an audition.”

  “Okay, yeah. Are you in New York?”

  “I am.”

  “How soon can you get here?”

  “Where are you, sir?”

  “I’m in the basement of the Eugene O’Neill Theatre.”

  “Is that on Broadway?”

  “Where did Jackson find you?”

  “In Branson, Missouri, sir.”

  “The Eugene O’Neill Theatre is on West Forty-ninth between Broadway and Eighth.”

  “I can be there in half an hour.”

  “Okay. I’ll see you at nine thirty out front.”

  Ellie threw on her makeup and pulled her hair back from her face. Donning black capri leggings and a white poet’s shirt with black ballerina slippers, she hurried to the subway. After a jolting ride on a graffiti-decorated train, Ellie jumped off, slipping through the crowd, and took the stairs two at a time. Popping up out of the ground like a prairie dog, she ran toward the Eugene O’Neill Theatre, arriving there breathless. As Corbin Oliver was standing under the awning smoking, she didn’t have time to be nervous.

  Mr. Oliver was younger than she expected. Skinny, with spiky yellow hair and cool glasses, he looked like he was under thirty. He wore a black T-shirt and distressed jeans with Converse sneakers. He threw down his cigarette butt as she approached.

  “Mr. Oliver?”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’m Ellie Heinrichs.” She stuck out her hand.

  He grinned but didn’t take it. “Come on in.”

  The lights were on in the theater, which seated about eleven hundred guests. Ellie thought that it looked like an old-fashioned opera house, the kind you’d see in the movies. It had tiers of red seats and gilded boxes with ornate trim. For all of her worldliness, Ellie felt like a backward country mouse in the home of a city cat. She had the feeling she was about to be swallowed whole.

  “Go ahead, get up on the stage.” Corbin Oliver sat down in the aisle seat, three rows back.

  The curtain was drawn, so Ellie had only the few feet in front of it on which to move. She stood there in the center looking out at him.

  “Do you know the play we’re doing?”

  “Streetcar.”

  “That’s correct. I want you to pretend you’re Blanche, and you just came to town.”

  Although his instructions were a complete surprise, Ellie was prepared to obey them. She’d starred as Blanche her senior year in a St. Louis production of the play. And Tennessee Williams was her favorite. She still knew all of the lines by heart.

  When she finished that scene, Oliver moved her on to the big confrontation with Stanley, which he read from his chair. It was rather awkward to play the scene without getting physical. Ellie wondered if he was even taking her seriously. Why wasn’t anyone else there? A stand-in for Stanley at least, so she could adequately demonstrate Blanche’s struggle?

  Corbin Oliver showed no visible signs that he liked her or not as she did her audition. His gray eyes were like steel. Ellie couldn’t help but think of Will and the contrast between their personalities, their styles. You’re not in Branson anymore, a voice inside her head said. This is what you wanted.

  “Well, Ellie.” Mr. Oliver stood to his feet and offered her a hand.

  She took it and made the leap off the stage, feeling more than a little awkward.

  “Thank you for coming. You’re a good sport.”

  She didn’t know whether he was serious or mocking her. Or both.

  “Thank you for letting me audition.”

  He motioned with his arm for her to lead the way out, which she did, taking mental notes as she walked up the aisle so she could describe it to Will. She didn’t expect to step one foot back in this theater again unless she was a ticket-holder. And she didn’t think she wanted to purchase a ticket for Corbin Oliver’s production of Streetcar.

  “It was nice to meet you, Mr. Oliver.” Ellie’s manners trumped her honesty in this case.

  “Yes, it was.”

  She couldn’t bring herself to ask if he’d be in touch.

  “I have your number in my phone, I believe.” He took it from his pocket and scrolled through, confirming.

  “Okay. Well, have a nice day.”

  “Thanks. You too.”

  Ellie made for the door.

  * * * * *

  “It was so humiliating!” Ellie ducked into the nearest café, a place called Bling, and called Will.

  “What do you mean?”

  “It was awful. I made a fool of myself.”

  “I hardly believe that.”

  “It’s true.”

  “What did you do? What did the director say?”

  “He wasn’t very nice either. He made me feel like an idiot.” Hot tears stung her cheeks. “I think he was there only to humor Mr. Jenkins. He must owe him something. The audition was a farce.”

  “Oh, babe, I’m sorry. I wish I could be there with you right now.”

  “Me too.”

  “Where is Audrey?”

  “She’s at work at the law office. I’ll text her in a minute. We’re supposed to meet for lunch, but I’m not hungry.”

  “Go with her though, okay? Don’t go home and hibernate.”

  “That’s what I feel like doing.”

  Will laughed lightly. “Me too. Dot and I are both kind of pathetic with you gone.”

  This brought a smile to Ellie’s face.

  “If work didn’t force me to get out this morning,” Will continued, “we’d probably be on the couch right now eating potato chips.”

  Ellie laughed at the thought. “She does love her chips.”

  “Yes, she does.”

  “Will?” A pause. “I miss you.”

  “I’m glad. I have this fear of a new director sweeping you off your feet.”

  Ellie wiped her eyes on her sleeve. “I don’t think that’s happening.”

  “Well, it’s his loss.”

  “Thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “For you.”

  * * * * *

  Ellie and Audrey met for lunch at The Plaza Food Hall, a fancy food court nestled into the basement of the hotel, formerly the laundry facilities. Drowning her sorrows in sushi, Ellie began to perk up over a Grasshopper, which was Audrey’s dessert treat from the Curly Cake. A mud-dark cake topped with an assertive green dollop of frosting, the Grasshopper, along with some strong coffee, was just what the doctor ordered. Audrey soon had Ellie laughing as she told of the latest antics Ray had assigned her to at Juvenile Hall.

  “Have you talked to Beecher today?” Audrey asked.

  “No. He said to let him know about the audition so I guess I will, and I need to call Mom and Opa too.”

  “What do you want to do tonight?”

  “Not a play. Definitely not a play.”

  Audrey’s eyes lit up. “I heard there’s this awesome jazz band playing at the Rose Theatre. Like an eighty-five-year-old drummer named Roy Haynes is teamed with Wynton Marsalis and Danilo Perez. Are you interested in that?”

  “I don’t know. Are you?”

  “I’m always interested in jazz, but it’s your call.” Audrey sipped from a tiny can of wine she’d bought with her sushi, and made a face. “This is nasty.” She set it down.

  “Honestly, I think I need something else tonight. A place to put my mind.”

  “How about a movie?”

  “What’s playing?”

  “There’s one I’ve been wanting to see based on that book you gave me, Love Finds You in Romeo, Colorado.”

  “Oh yeah, I love that book. Claire and Stephen.”

  “Antonio Banderas is Stephen.”

  “Sounds good to me. Let’s do it.” Ellie threw her napkin over
the remaining crumbs of Grasshopper.

  “I’ll meet you back at the apartment after work.” “Okay.”

  Rising from her seat, Audrey eyed Ellie suspiciously. “What are you going to do? You’re not going to mope, are you?”

  Ellie, noncommittal, simply looked at her.

  “Oh, brother.” Audrey tugged at Ellie’s arm. “Come on. At least walk with me out into the daylight.”

  Chapter Thirty-four

  After Audrey finally stopped fussing over her, leaving late to return to work, Ellie wandered across the street and into Central Park. She hated zoos, so she bypassed the Central Park Zoo, walking up East Drive till she found an empty bench near the Conservatory Pond. She called Beecher.

  “Ell’s Bells.”

  “Not you too.”

  “It gets to be addicting.”

  Ellie crossed her legs. “Oh, I’ve heard about your little aud-iction.”

  Beecher laughed at that. “She told you, huh.”

  “I’m so happy. Really, I can’t believe my luck. In that department, at least.”

  “Did you suspect?”

  “No. I mean, I used to hope, but it didn’t seem likely.”

  “I didn’t suspect it either. How could I have been so blind all these years?”

  “Better late than never.”

  Beecher’s voice had a schoolboy quality. “Does she really, you know—”

  “Love you?”

  Beecher cleared his throat.

  “Um, yes. She’s so happy, she’s giddy. And you better not hurt her.”

  “I don’t ever want to.”

  “Well, I trust you know what you’re doing.”

  “What about you? Have you had your audition?”

  “I had it this morning.”

  “Well? How did it go?”

  “Horrible.”

  “Huh-uh. It didn’t. How could it?”

  “It just did.” Ellie scraped at the fingernail polish on her right thumb.

  “How do you know? Did you mess up or fall down or something?”

  “No. It was the director. I think he hated me.”

  “Ellie, that’s irrational. If you can’t even say anything you did wrong—”

  “It was just a feeling I got. Like his mind was made up before I did anything. I think it was only a joke—like he did it to humor Jackson Jenkins.”

  Beecher was pensive. “Still, surely Jenkins wouldn’t set up something totally worthless.”

  “Maybe he didn’t realize it, but it seems so.” “Have you heard anything definite?”

  “I’m not expecting to hear anything.”

  “Give it a day or two.”

  The next person Ellie called was her mother. Her response and advice were the same as Beecher’s; it was as if they shared a brain. When she asked to talk to Opa, he was sleeping, which Ellie found odd for the middle of the day. He was apparently still not feeling well.

  Ellie watched people for a while and then joined a small group for a guided tour called Amble Through the Ramble, following an enthusiastic park guide over streams, under arches, and through the woods along a maze of pathways that led through the secluded area. The exercise was good for her. Afterward she headed back to Audrey’s for a good, hot shower.

  When she got out of the shower, she put on Audrey’s robe that hung on the back of the bathroom door. It was ankle-long on Audrey but came to Ellie’s knee.

  She checked her phone to see if Will had called. Instead, there was a message from Corbin Oliver that said simply, “Please call me back at this number.”

  Her heart beat rapidly. She dialed the number, and he answered.

  “Ellie?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “If you want the part of Stella, it’s yours.”

  Ellie choked, dumbfounded. “Stella?”

  “It’s a good part.”

  “I know! I know! I just—”

  “I want you to stand as a backup for Blanche too; we’ve got Emily Jordan in there, but you never know.”

  “Oh my goodness, I don’t know what to say.”

  Corbin Oliver remained silent, which didn’t help her at all. Then he said calmly, “So, we’ll see you tomorrow at practice.”

  “Thank you, Mr. Oliver. Thank you so much!”

  “Ten a.m.”

  “Okay! I’ll be there.”

  He hung up.

  Ellie stared at the phone as if it were a frog that might jump out of her hands. Then she lifted it to her lips and kissed it, squealing for joy. She whirled around, dancing out of the bathroom and down the hall into the front room.

  Audrey was coming in the door.

  “I got a part!”

  Her friend dropped her bag, pulling off her shoes. Her face broke into a fabulous smile.

  “I’m going to be Stella!”

  Then Audrey put on a Brando face, complete with drooping eyelids, and flexed the muscles in her neck. She screamed, “Stellaaah!”

  Pitching her shoes down the hall toward her bedroom, she ran into Ellie’s arms and gave her a big bear hug. “Yippee! I’m so happy for you!”

  “I’m in shock. I can’t believe it.”

  Ellie called to share the news with Will first, then Beecher and her mother and Opa. They were all very happy for her, and Beecher said he told her so. She and Audrey celebrated that night with Antonio Banderas and a spicy Indian dinner at Banjara in the East Village.

  * * * * *

  The next several days were a flurry of activity. Ellie had no time to make a trip home. Using money from her savings, she bought a few clothes to get her by. Audrey was happy to have her in the apartment, even though some days they barely saw each other. Ellie became educated by total immersion in the theater culture of New York City. She ate, drank, and slept Streetcar Named Desire. Corbin Oliver demanded nothing less.

  Because she spent so much time with them, Ellie made friends with several others in the cast. She got along well with Chris, the guy who played Stanley, Stella’s husband. He was a former model with gritty good looks. He was also gay. Will had been relieved to hear this, as Oliver was pushing Ellie to play out the animal attraction that fueled Stanley and Stella’s relationship, and it put her into situations that he said sounded, to him, quite risqué.

  She also liked the man who played Mitch. His name was Steve, and he was big-hearted, rather like his character. Ellie was comforted by his presence. Her stand-in, Jane, was great. It surprised her how accepting they’d all been toward a girl from Missouri.

  The biggest surprise had been how well she got along with Emily Jordan, the Broadway star cast as Blanche DuBois. Miss Jordan was a striking redhead whose natural good looks had to be dulled by the makeup and hair artists lest she appear too glamorous. Her eyes were an astounding blue-green—like unpolished turquoise—and her figure was thin, wispy. She almost seemed like an apparition as she sashayed across the stage. She brought an otherworldly quality to Blanche that Ellie found delicious. This was a woman she could learn from.

  Other than the actors in the play and Audrey, the only person Ellie saw in New York was Jackson Jenkins. She’d written an e-mail to thank him for the reference and subsequent audition out of courtesy. After that, he had shown up at a play practice to watch, then offered to take her to dinner.

  In the leggings and silk batik tunic she’d worn to practice, Ellie felt severely underdressed for the upscale Italian place he suggested in Tribeca. Scalini Fedeli was infinitely romantic, and Ellie wondered why Jackson Jenkins would choose to take her there. The average main course price was sixty dollars. Trying to be conservative, she ordered Tuna Milanese with arugula, cucumber, and tarragon salad. Jackson had the peppered rib venison chop with port and balsamic vinegar sauce, which he said was out of this world. They shared a bottle of wine from Gemme, a small family winery in Italy. It was unfamiliar to most people, but Ellie—and Jackson, as she came to find out—both favored it.

  Dressed in black Armani with a light blue shirt and Lanvin blue sil
k tie, Jackson was gorgeous and charming. The conversation was sophisticated, touching on opera, art, and of course, wine. He told her how he knew Corbin Oliver. The director was the younger brother of his college roommate, and Jackson gave him a place to stay when he first moved to New York.

  “I guess you could say we’re like family.”

  “That’s like Audrey and me.”

  Jackson gave his credit card to the waiter. “Who’s Audrey?”

  “She’s my best friend from home. I’m staying at her apartment. She’s in law school at NYU.”

  “Oh.”

  “In fact, I need to be getting back. She’ll be looking for me.”

  “Did you call her?”

  “I did, but I told her I wouldn’t be late.”

  They rode the subway to Tribeca, but Jackson insisted on getting a taxi to Audrey’s apartment. When they arrived, he walked her to the door of the building.

  “Thank you for dinner,” Ellie said. She fidgeted.

  His dark eyes were inquisitive, but he didn’t ask anything. He nodded. “You’re welcome.”

  “Well, I’ll see you around.”

  He grabbed her arm gently as she turned for the door. “Is it—okay if I call you?”

  “Um, sure.” But as she spoke the words, a siren went off in her head.

  “Okay then. See you.”

  “’Bye!” She bolted through the foyer and up the stairs, not waiting for the elevator.

  * * * * *

  When she got inside, Ellie immediately knew something was wrong. The door thudded behind her. Her flustered emotions regarding Jackson Jenkins turned to fear as she glimpsed Audrey’s face. It was wax. Audrey’s coal-black eyes were red-rimmed. Setting the phone down on the coffee table, she rose from the couch and crossed the room to take Ellie by the hand, leading her to sit down. Audrey’s hand was icy and sweaty at the same time. They faced each other, in the same position as the night Ellie arrived and Audrey told her about Beecher.

  “Ellie, something has happened.”

  Ellie braced herself as fear crept up her spine like a hairy spider. Audrey squeezed her hand till it hurt. A single tear escaped one of Audrey’s eyes and cut a rivulet down her pale cheek.

  “Opa is dead.”

  Chapter Thirty-five